The colour of our lullaby
by public static void
Summary: The four Pevensie children want to fight in the war, each in their own way, but instead they are sent away. Neither of them expected to fall into a world that needed their help more than the place they came from ever did. :: Gender–swapped!universe.


Okay. This is something a bit different from what I write (silly, girly romances about HP). ObeliskX requested a gender–swapped Narnia Universe (which means more than only the Pevensies) based on a pic set by redsilverchains (I don't know them, but they have a lj); I'm sure you've seen this pic set before.

So, the characters and this world come from CS Lewis (and belong to whoever holds the rights to his work), the idea is redsilverchains's and the request is from ObeliskX.

This has thirty–eight chapters so far and it's reaching its ending, so I felt comfortable posting it now. It will probably reach fourty–six or fourty–seven.

* * *

 _Dear child, stop working, go play_  
 _Forget every rule_  
 _There's no fear in a dream_

 _Nightwish — Song of Myself_

 _._

 _._

 _._

Patrice couldn't say she had lived more than any other girl her age. At fourteen, she had been cast aside in the trying times of war, relented to the sidelines and made to watch as the men —her father included— fought to deter England's enemies.

She had heard some young boys, Steve's ages, bellowing how they would be joining the forces as soon as they met the required height (age having been left aside). She had been angry when they said how women were having it easy, staying at home and caring for the children as if nothing were wrong. Patrice snorted in a quite unladylike manner. She called Steve inside and spoke to him.

"Have you seen mum's eyes lately?" she asked, sitting down her younger brother and making him think about the redness in their lady mother's eyes, of the bags under her eyes and the permanently startled expression. "Have you seen the hour at which she gets here? Do you think a working mother, a woman with four children to feed and care for, has it easy?"

To his credit —and to Patrice's pride— Steven shook his head.

"Richard is a stupid boy," Steven said without bothering to cover his appalling language. Patrice didn't like it when he spoke like that, much less in front of Edith and Lucas. Right then, she said nothing and kept silence, wanting to hear what Steve had to say. "I know Mum is doing everything she can to help us. That's why I will join the army when I can."

Patrice didn't expect that. She stiffened and counted to three before exhaling, sending Steven to the yard so he could keep an eye on the restless Lucas.

Of course, she couldn't find it in her heart to chastise Steven for his thoughts. He was an ambitious boy, one who craved the care of their father and the love of their mother as much as the need to be someone by himself.

She sighed and went outside. Edith was reading, enjoying the strangely calm weather. The sun hit her dark hair and the slight breeze moved her braid just enough to annoy her now and then.

On the other side of the small yard, too close to their bunker, Steven and Lucas played with a ball, kicking it in turns.

Patrice didn't want to push them. She was the eldest Pevensie daughter, the one who should care for her younger siblings. She was also a woman, a girl, some might say, and there were times when she feared to overstep her boundaries.

So, Patrice fidgeted with her ivory–stained apron before picking up a basket from the ground and taking the clothes off the drying line. It was the least she could do to help their mother with the heavy burden left on her shoulders, and Patrice did it with grace.

Yet, there were times when she wished she could be outside, fighting at his father's side. Other times, when the more realistic side of her came forward, Patrice pictured herself as a nurse in the field. It was proper and safer, but not exactly what she wanted because deep in her heart, the need to help, to prove her loyalty to her country seemed to burst like the water from a broken dam.

At the same time, Patrice knew she could never do it. As much as the kingdom needed her, so did her mother.

Folding the last of Edith's skirts, she took a moment to appreciate the setting. Lucas and Steven were now sitting at Edith's feet as she read out loud. The thin book in her hands had been their comfort on the nights when the bombings were too much and came too often. Edith had been exemplary at those times, controlling herself quite well and with smart eyes always seeking a new way to make others feel comfortable.

Patrice knew how difficult that was for Edith, with her fiery temper and the aching wish to be free, to be more.

That's why Patrice couldn't go away; if she did, Edith would follow. And her sister looked too much like a boy that she would have no qualms in dressing like one to be qualified as a soldier. There were tales, though, of what had happened to other girls, women, who did the same. Patrice shivered.

She was needed here and would stay as long as the war kept going. She would cook and clean and do the laundry while her mother worked to earn the few money she could to sustain the family.

Patrice's place was at home, even if her heart reached forward.

* * *

That night had been the worst.

Lucas was not a bad boy. He considered himself to be good and had heard from both Mother and Patrice that he could behave when it was needed of him.

He also was restless, and that was not a good thing when the bombs fell from the sky and hit the streets of London. It meant they would be sent away like many other children had been, and Lucas didn't know if he could part with his mother.

It was true that he didn't get to see her often. She went to work early and came home late, more exhausted than hungry. Usually, she went to sleep without sparing a glance to him and Lucas didn't blame her. Patrice was there for him if he needed help with anything, but sometimes he would like to have a mother to hug and a father to play with. Lucas wanted them _now_ , because who knew what the war would bring next?

At the same time, he was afraid of growing up without them. What if Father died fighting? What if mother fell ill from overworking herself?

Lucas wanted to be a selfish boy and demand his mother stayed with them instead of working. He had seen Patrice's restlessness; she wanted to help the family? She could take mother's place and work! The Edith would follow... And then Steven would find a way to the army and he would stay alone with mother, watching her worried glances towards the windows, her ears alert to the sirens.

And the sirens could sound at any minute.

He had lost count of the time they had spent in the bunker, looking elsewhere when Patrice's eyes fell on him. He wasn't going to apologise for not telling Mother that Edith had gone back because father's portrait was back at home and running to hide while it stayed there, in danger of being blown away, felt like treason.

Lucas wasn't a traitor and the conspiring, small smile from Edith made him feel better about himself and that little secret. Nobody had come up hurt, after all, so he could rest for what was left of the night.

On the makeshift bed, he turned to the other side, facing the wall. He didn't want to be the one who cried first (they always cried, at least one of them) and for that, he needed to look away. If only he could fall asleep as easily as he closed his eyes... Then, he could be in any place he wished as long as his dreams allowed him.

"I know you're not sleeping, Luke," Patrice's voice came and he felt the bed give under his sister's weight. He sat up and looked at her, breathing deeply so he wouldn't cry. Just then, another bomb fell near. Lucas felt the whole bunker shake. "Will you tell me what is in your mind?"

"I'm afraid," were his words. Lucas felt relieved when Patrice's hand came to his shoulder. At his side, Steve sat up too.

"We all are," Steve said with a bright smile, and Lucas wondered how could he bear to pretend everything was alright only to make him feel better.

"I'm not," Edith said from the bunker above. She was sharing with Mother, who was deeply asleep. Lucas didn't know how tired she should be to remain sleeping. "The war will end one day. It's what we do meanwhile what matters."

"And what we do after," Patrice agreed.

It was strange to see his sisters agreeing to something. Usually, Patrice tried to rein Edith in. Lucas didn't like it when they fought, but Steve was always there to reassure him of the love between them all, saying that even their sisters needed to vent their frustrations.

Lucas understood frustration.

"But what do we do now?" he asked in a thread of a voice. Edith sighed.

"We go on, Luke," Patrice said with a smile.

Then, the light of the bunker went out and the Pevensies stayed close in the dark.


End file.
